


Even A Glamorous Bitch Can Be In Need

by orphan_account



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Dream Sex, Genderbending, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Porn Without Plot, Schmoop, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-30
Updated: 2011-05-30
Packaged: 2017-10-19 22:10:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/205748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Under his cool and elegant exterior, Arthur is a gentle, passionate, adventurous lover, unafraid of showing and telling Eames how much he wants him. Eames aches to reciprocate, but something keeps getting in the way.</p><p>PWP plus feelings. Top!Arthur. (Briefly genderbending) dream sex, but both partners are real.</p><p>Written for <a href="http://inception-kink.livejournal.com/18462.html?thread=42783006#t42783006"> this </a> glorious prompt at Inception Kinkmeme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Even A Glamorous Bitch Can Be In Need

**Author's Note:**

> Title is a line from Tori Amos's song "Taxi Ride".

"God, you feel good. So soft. I could kiss you here all day."

Arthur's head was between his legs, mouth pressing worshipful, closed-mouth kisses to the folds of the pussy Eames had forged.

Eames's lover had learned to cease his slow back-and-forth tonguing of the lips and clit right before Eames came; somehow withdrawing allowed the tension to build, and made the orgasm, when Arthur finally took the clit into his mouth and squeezed it gently there, that much stronger.

And Eames hadn't even had to ask Arthur to do that. Arthur had read, and thought, and asked him questions. Asked him what would feel good.

No one had ever really done that before. So often they had just lain back and let him fuck them, thinking that because he was tough and powerfully-built that he always wanted to be in control, that he had no desire to be stroked and whispered to and held like a beautiful and finely-made thing.

He never expected that it would be Arthur--proud, cautious, slightly vain, darkly exquisite like a Modigliani painting--who made him feel that way. And he was reluctant to admit it, but he loved it, and Arthur for doing it.

"I love being between your thighs. So fucking strong. I love when you wrap your legs around my neck and I can feel how strong you are." Arthur fixed his mouth on the inside of Eames's thigh, tongued the tight muscle there. "Do you want to come like this?" he asked, gazing up at Eames with a hazy smile.

He ran his thumb down the crease, then stroked it lightly with the back of his hand, clearly fascinated by the delicately viscous texture of the wetness there.

"Oh God," Eames murmured, nearly unable to speak. "I want you inside me."

"In your cunt, baby?" Arthur purred, kissing Eames's lightly-furred belly.

"No," he said, running his hand through Arthur's hair and lifting his chin up so he could see the finely-etched dark eyes again, and all the desire in them.

His cock returned to normal, already throbbing and dripping with beads of precum, and Arthur kissed the tip before rolling over to reach for the lube.

Lube in hand, he looked down at Eames, enraptured, dimples looking as though they might split his face.

He ran his fingertips over one of Eames's arms, lighting briefly in the sensitive crook, them following it up with a soft kiss. He laced his fingers with Eames's before slicking them with the lube.

"Ready?" he asked, sounding almost giddy.

"So fucking ready," Eames replied, arching back into the pillow.

Arthur slipped a warm hand under the small of his back, steadying and soothing him, as one finger shyly asked permission to enter his tightened arse.

"That's it. Yeah...you're so...you're beautiful," he whispered, the side of his shapely mouth making contact with the sweaty hair stuck to Eames's brow. "I can't ever touch enough of your skin. I want you so much, all the time." He was now sliding two fingers in and out, hooking them towards him when they were all the way in.

"Arthur, I--" Eames sighed, probably sounding a bit frustrated.

"You don't have to say anything back. It's OK,” he said, lips turning down a bit involuntarily.

"No, no," he said, straining to raise his neck. "I just...sometimes I'm just overwhelmed by all this. And by you. I don't mean it like that--" he struggled, hoping to assure him. "It's just, you're always so good to me, and you're patient, and I'm just not used to anyone being like that. When we first got together, I'd expected to fall into bed with an icy, spoiled little dauphin, and instead I got you." Arthur grimaced lightly at that, then laughed.

He propped himself up on one elbow and tentatively reached for Arthur, hand on his cheek. Arthur leaned into the touch.

"I'm used to having to manipulate people. I'm used to having to be who people expect me to be, and it just feels, well, kind of weird to have someone ask me what I want."

He grasped Arthur's hand, pulled him close. Arthur rested his cheek against Eames's clavicle, and Eames could feel his warm, slightly exerted breath, the flawless smoothness of his skin. Arthur felt exhausted in his arms, as if it was taking physical strength to process what Eames was saying to him.

"And sometimes I feel like if I say anything about how fucking much that means to me, especially when the person in question is brilliant and brave and so goddamn beautiful it hurts, then I just won't be able to stop. I'll just blubber all the time and lose my ability to morally compartmentalize and start a muffin business. Or whatever repressed people do once they've had an emotional awakening."

Arthur smiled and kissed his forehead.

"And I thought you liked me like that. Afraid you might lose interest if I just rolled over and crawled into your arms. You seem like a man who likes the thrill of the chase. Like a cat who goes up to the one person in the room who's most indifferent to it."

"I like the thrill of--never mind, I was just about to say something incredibly corny."

"Shall we be thrilled together?"

"Oh, fuck, yes," Arthur growled, swooping down for a deep kiss.

 

After he had prepared him, Arthur sat back on his heels, smooth, dusky cock erect against his stomach.

"Sit back. I want to hold you while I fuck your gorgeous brains out."

Eames grinned and moved to lean back into Arthur's chest. He relished the feeling of Arthur's aroused nipples against his back, and moved up and down to stimulate them further.

Moving to lower himself onto Arthur's cock, he felt Arthur's moan vibrate into him, felt Arthur's elegant hands span his stomach and thighs, felt a hand hone in on his nipple and orbit it tenderly. Arthur ran his lower lip over Eames's scapula, ending the motion in a kiss to the shoulder. There was no other option but to sink back into Arthur, and let Arthur sink into him.

"Your hands," Eames breathed. "I love your hands."

"Mmm, I love your cock," Arthur replied, grasping Eames's cock and just holding it lightly for a moment, as if still figuring out what to do with a rare and lovely artifact.

"Arthur," he cried, fucking into Arthur's hand, "I love this. I love everything. I love-"

He couldn't say it yet. But maybe one day he could.


End file.
